One Year After You, page 10
Keli wouldn’t blame this woman if she didn’t believe her. Not in the least. I mean, even to Keli it sounded ridiculous. How could she have gone out with someone for three months, fallen head over heels for him, given him her whole heart and not known he was already attached to someone else?
Her mind flew backwards. The night they’d met. It had been at a party, and they’d literally bumped into each other, then he’d insisted on refreshing her spilled glass of wine. They’d talked all night and she’d been so utterly captivated by him that she’d allowed him to take her home. They’d sat up talking until dawn, when he had to go to work, but not once did he seem uneasy, or act like there was somewhere else he should be.
Then there was Christmas. She’d done a double shift to let Sima have the day off with her kids, but he’d come round and picked her up when she’d finished at 11 p.m. On Hogmanay, they’d celebrated the turn of the New Year in her apartment, lying naked in front of the fire, watching his favourite old movie, The Sting, and eating a dinner that was cold because they’d been too lost in each other to eat it when the timer had buzzed and the oven had switched itself off.
They’d even spent two nights in a log cabin at Loch Lomond, not long before he’d disappeared off the face of the earth. That’s what had been so confusing. That weekend, he’d told her he thought he could be falling in love with her, and she’d told him the same. They’d stayed in bed from the moment they arrived until they left, having food sent over from a nearby hotel. It was perfect. Yes, it was a whirlwind, but it felt completely real. He was the first man she’d ever said that to. And he was the first man who chose to walk away from her.
How could he have done all of that if he had a girlfriend? Apart from the emotional and physical betrayal, how could he possibly have explained his absences, especially on special days? This didn’t make sense. There was still part of her that believed it had to be a mistake. Or a prank. Or some other kind of messed-up scam to get information from her.
Keli tuned back into the conversation, admitting, ‘It’s a complete shock. I still can’t quite believe it.’
‘And I’m guessing you’re wondering if this is some kind of crazy set-up.’ It was like she was reading her mind. The strange thing was, the woman at the other end didn’t sound angry now. It was as though all the air had gone out of her ire, and she just sounded deflated. Confused. Crushed.
Keli recognised all those emotions because it was how she’d been feeling for the last month. ‘Well, it’s shocking and more than a little confusing. I have so many questions.’
‘Me too. Look, can we meet up? I know that’s going to sound incredibly random, but I just think we need to talk about this in person. I’m sorry I came on to the call so fired up, but I just thought you must have known and went out with him anyway. I’d really like us to have a conversation.’
Yvie was shaking her head furiously, mouthing, ‘No. No. No way.’
‘Y-yes.’ Keli stammered. ‘Okay.’
Yvie was now mimicking stabbing herself through the heart.
‘Thing is, I know it’s short notice, but are you around today? I’m free this afternoon. No. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I can’t expect you to drop everything…’
Yvie was gesturing wildly again. No. Don’t do it.
‘I can do that,’ Keli agreed, much to Yvie’s very obvious disgust.
Yvie grabbed a pen from the table and scrawled PUBLIC PLACE!!!!!! on her biscuit wrapper.
Keli was already going down that train of thought. ‘How about the lobby of the St Kentigern hotel in an hour? Would that be okay?’
It was about a half-hour drive from the hospital, but it was on the way to the motorway that would take her to her mum’s house in Weirbridge and she was headed there anyway, so it made sense. It was also somewhere very public, somewhere she felt safe, and somewhere there was a bar if she needed to ditch the car and drink an emergency glass of wine.
‘That would work.’
‘How will I recognise you?’ Keli had waited her whole life to ask the classic movie line, but never imagined it would be in a situation like this.
‘I’ll recognise you. I’m looking at a picture of you right now. You’re wearing a red dress.’
Keli knew exactly what picture it was. It had been at her mum’s birthday dinner. The theme was scarlet. Ryan had said he couldn’t make it – which had been disappointing as she’d really wanted him to meet her family. Up until then, they’d been in this little bubble of solitude, just the two of them, locked away from the world when they were together. He’d asked her to send a photo since he couldn’t be there, so she’d had Noah snap a pic of her. She had been laughing at something her brother had said, happy, excited that she would be seeing Ryan later that night. This woman having that photo was even more proof that this definitely wasn’t a prank. This was serious. It was a high risk situation. One that was almost certainly going to hurt. One that she should definitely avoid. And yet…
‘Yes, that was me. I’ll see you in an hour.’
2 P.M. – 4 P.M.
13
ODETTE
Odette had been trying to navigate the device for the last half-hour, with no success. Just when she was at the point of hurling it across the room, Calvin came back into her dressing room, arms wide. He stopped. Shocked.
‘Are you using an iPad? Is it a blue moon? The dawning of the apocalypse? Are pigs flying?’
His surprise was understandable. The iPad had been provided by the studio and had sat in a holder on her desk for years. Odette knew most women her age were perfectly competent with technology, but it had never interested her in the slightest to learn. She barely even used her mobile phone. Why waste time figuring these things out when there was always someone else around to do it all for her?
As for the iPad, she had a basic knowledge of how to work it, thanks to Calvin’s patient instruction, but the only time she ever used it was to put on a bit of Tony Bennett or Michael Bublé. Until twenty minutes ago, that was. That’s when she’d given Elliot, the documentary director, the same old made-up story about how she’d got her first break, then watched him and the cameraman leave. As soon as the door closed behind them, she’d opened it and went on to the page that searched for stuff.
‘No, I’m just trying to track someone down. Will you help me?’
‘I will indeed, but not right now, because at this very second you’re being summoned to feast on sausage rolls and tuna vol-au-vents,’ he drawled, with a mock bow.
Odette sighed, checked her lippy and dragged her aching bones off the sofa. One more official function. This was it. A buffet lunch with the cast and crew. Then, tonight, she was having dinner with Calvin. As soon as it was over, her diary was empty. She was free. And that thought absolutely devastated her.
‘Calvin, can I ask you something. Why are you always so damn happy with life?’
He thought about that for a second. ‘Because I love my job, my Botox is on point, and I go home to my husband every night, who, for his sins, is stuck with me until death do us part.’
Odette nodded ruefully. ‘I thought that about my last husband too. Number four. And number three before him. Admittedly, I realised on my honeymoon that my second marriage was a spontaneous mistake and the first one was a folly of youth.’
‘Ever wonder what happened to them all?’ Calvin asked, and he seemed genuinely intrigued. Odette had ensured that it had been written into the documentary contract that it would focus on her career, and not on the trials and tribulations of her personal life. It was there in black and white that they couldn’t contact any of her ex-husbands. The last thing she needed were those skeletons coming out of that closet.
‘First one, Jake, passed away when we were in our thirties. Motorbike accident. Second one has been living in Marbella for the last thirty years, thanks to a very generous divorce settlement. The third one, same story, but lives on a golf course in Florida and the last one… Still haunting me, like the arse that he is. Last I heard from Mitchum Royce was a letter to my lawyer, saying he was suing me for fraud, because it turned out the Elvis impersonator we used for our wedding in Las Vegas wasn’t ordained. He’s saying that I had prior knowledge of this and claims that he’s emotionally traumatised and unable to form emotional connections due to my duplicity. Although that didn’t seem to be an issue when he was buggering off with Tootsie from Tallahassee, the waitress he picked up on his next trip to Sin City. The truth is, he’s pissed off because if the marriage wasn’t legal, it means he can’t take anything from me in a divorce.’ She stopped before she revealed that there was nothing left to take, because he’d already spent it all, and left her with a mountain of debt. She still couldn’t bear to admit, even to Calvin, that Mitchum had ruined her.
It was such a bloody cliché – the actress getting exploited by men who swore they loved her for herself, not for the stardom or the money. Odette told herself that if it happened to Marilyn Monroe, it could happen to the best of them.
Calvin’s chin was on the ground. ‘Noooo. So, hang on, did you know that it wasn’t legal?’
‘Of course not. If I had, I wouldn’t have bothered with the prenup. He just keeps coming back, looking for ways to get a payday from the cash cow. That would be me.’
‘Well, the cash cow is about to have her way with a satay stick, so such matters will have to wait.’
Odette paused. ‘In case I don’t tell you this enough, I know I’m a handful…’
‘Caustic but true,’ Calvin retorted.
‘But I really appreciate every single thing you do for me. And I’m aware that this is our last day together too. I supposed I hadn’t really thought about that.’
‘Odette, you’re not dying. You’re just retiring. I’ll still be in the office if you need me, and I’ll still handle any enquiries we get for work for you.’
‘Urgh, the bloody optimism is almost as annoying as the relentless happiness. There should be a law against it.’ They both knew that there had been zero enquiries, zero offers, zero interest. She was done. Washed up. Over. But right now there was still one more part to play. If it was an Oscar category, it would be ‘Sacked Actress in a Graceful and Dignified Exit’. ‘Right, let’s go show those bastards what they’ll be missing.’
She touched up her own lippy in the mirror, using her trademark Dior Rouge scarlet lipstick. Agnes McGlinchy would have been outraged at the extravagance.
Calvin held the door open for her, and for the second time today, Odette pulled herself up to her full five foot two inches, shoulders back, chin out, and wafted on down the corridor. After her emotional response earlier, she was determined to show that she was a paragon of calm composure, class and elegance, even though inside, she was still screaming at the injustice of being pushed out to pasture. For forty years, she’d called the shots and enjoyed the acclaim. This was the first time in her professional career that she was being rejected. She didn’t need a therapist to tell her that she was going to have a visceral reaction to that. She just hadn’t expected it to be in public.
As soon as she walked into the canteen, the room erupted in applause and Odette began to work the crowd, steering clear of the buffet that had probably had sticky fingers all over it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the documentary camera following her every move, so she made sure she gave them her best side and never dropped her face. They weren’t getting any loose chins on this chick.
There were only two genuine goodbyes in the room. The first was to the team of women who ran the canteen. After her tenure as a school dinner lady, she’d always had an affinity with the women, some of whom had been there as long as her. The second was to Tress, who, as promised, slipped a piece of paper into her hand with her telephone number on it. The younger woman had been standing chatting to Rex Marino, but she took a step to the side to speak to Odette.
‘Please do keep in touch, Odette. I’ll miss you. And it would be lovely to have a proper chat when we’re not surrounded by all these ears,’ she joked.
Odette, not usually one for public displays of affection, gave her a hug, then cursed herself when the entanglement of arms somehow got caught in her hair and shifted her wig. She swiftly readjusted it and prayed the camera hadn’t caught it.
A quick glance to the side told her that Elliot was gesturing to the cameraman to pan the room, so hopefully she was in the clear.
The sound of a spoon clanging on a glass rang out and a hush fell as the show director, Carl Newman, stepped up onto a makeshift stage at the front of the room. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.’
Of course, everyone obliged. Carl was one of the new hires that the studio had made to shake the show up and bring in a new generation to its dwindling viewing figures, so, of course, everyone was concerned that they’d be next on the chopping block and therefore treated him like he was the second coming of Jesus.
Carl cleared his throat, and then held his hand out in Odette’s direction. ‘Odette, if I could ask you to join me on the stage, please?’
All she wanted to do was tell him to foxtrot right off, but she couldn’t drop the congeniality act, because she refused to look petty. Instead, she glided gracefully to the front of the room, and elegantly stepped up, ignoring the hand he was offering her for balance, an internal monologue running in her mind. I’d rather fall flat on my face than take your hand, you two-faced little shit.
‘Odette, it really has been magnificent to have worked with you over the last few months…’
Right up until you fired me.
‘And I know that I speak for everyone in this room, when I say that your talent and your presence will be greatly missed by us all.’
You won’t give me a second thought from the minute I walk out of that door.
‘Hear, Hear!’ Rex Marino cheered loudly.
Her internal voice now lashed out at her co-star. And you should stop trying to attract attention to yourself, you flash arse. I see right through you.
Carl was speaking again. ‘So, on behalf of the cast, the crew and the studio, we wanted to honour you with this award…’ With that, he handed over a glass ornament, carved in the shape of The Clydeside logo, with the words on the front…
Odette Devine,
a shining star on The Clydeside from 1983–2023.
With love and thanks from all at the show, and your millions of fans.
Forty years, and all I get is a crappy ornament.
But, of course, she showed her gratitude to the watching crowd with a beaming smile and a bow, which took more acting skill than she’d had to muster for her farewell scene this morning.
‘All we ask now, is that you enjoy every second of your retirement…’
I was sacked…
‘And spend wonderful days with your family…’
I have no one. Not a single family member on this earth.
‘And your friends.’
None of those either. Sacrificed them all for my career. In fact, the last time I had genuine friends, was…
‘And enjoy the memories of a stellar career and four spectacular decades of achievement here at The Clydeside.’
That was it. 1983. The last time I had genuine friends. How was that a life well lived?
Another rumble of applause, with cheers and hoots of congratulation filled the room and Odette felt the same crushing tightness in her chest that she’d had this morning, right before she’d crumbled into a sobbing mess.
‘Speech! Speech!’ someone in the crowd yelled out.
Odette inhaled, exhaled, used every exercise she’d ever been taught to calm her nerves and her racing heart.
Somehow, by some miracle, she managed to find her voice. ‘I’d just like to say thank you. For forty years. For Agnes McGlinchy. And for the wonderful members of the cast and crew who have shown me so much kindness over the years.’
Except the ones who’ve been truly fucking horrible to me. I hope karma serves up the same kind of misery that it’s doled out to me.
That thought was so powerful, like a kick to the side of the head. Karma. That’s why her life had been a complete shit show. It was why she had no one left. Why she was going to finish her days in lonely misery.
She couldn’t get another word out, so instead, she held up the pathetic glass award and smiled, like a football player holding up a trophy after a winning game.
Karma had screwed her. And the regrets that had been on her mind all day, were the reason that the Gods of Karma were decimating her life.
Once again, Calvin helped her from the stage, and guided her out of the canteen and back to her dressing room. If anyone tried to say a personal goodbye, she didn’t see them, too focused on staring straight ahead, holding it together until she could get out of here and find some kind of way to deal with the prospect of the empty, barren life that was in front of her. If this was what karma had done to her, it was time to start fighting back. And she was ready to start doing that.
Since this morning, an idea had been forming in her mind, but she didn’t think she’d have the strength or courage to see it through. Now she knew that she had to. If she had any hope of putting her life right, she had to make amends for what she’d done forty years ago.
As soon as she got back into the dressing room for the final time, Calvin blew out all the stresses of his day. ‘Right, my lovely, let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve got the studio limo for one more night, so let’s ride home in style, get dolled up, then head out for a feast tonight. It’s on the company credit card so you can eat caviar off your thumbs if you like.’
The mention of the limo brought up another problem that Odette was going to have to contend with. She’d never learned to drive, so she didn’t have a car. How was she going to get around now? The cost of taxis was horrendous and the thought of going on a bus made her shudder. More karma. And besides, her over-60 bus pass was still in a drawer in the kitchen, because she preferred to remain in denial that she was old enough to be eligible for it.
